A week without a plan

Some travel notes

AI image generated with DallE

I hadn't touched the camper since August 2024. Something held me back. Unconsciously, I associated going away with something heavy.

The last time I went on a solo trip with this home on wheels, the destination was Milan. I stopped in Germany and Switzerland, then north of Lago di Como.

The closer I got to Milan, the more nervous I felt.

I was about to pack up all my belongings from the apartment where I used to live.

Eventually, it all went fine. My ex helped me carry all the boxes and fit everything into the camper.

When that was done, we had an emotional talk.

Then we hugged and said goodbye.

I cried the whole drive to the campsite just outside the city. I felt wrung out. All I wanted was to be home again.

It took me two more days to get there.

One of the most challenging moments was manoeuvring the overloaded camper down a dirt road in the middle of a forest, full of deep holes and bumps. I felt panic rising. I was furious with myself for trusting the GPS, even though my gut told me to take another way.

Disastrous scenarios ran through my head: me getting stuck in the middle of nowhere, a woman alone with a van full of boxes, and a puppy.

But I told myself to breathe. To stay calm. To keep going.

And I made it. Nothing broke. I reached a safe spot and went to bed exhausted.

On the final day, I still had 800 kilometres to drive.

By the time I got home, I was done. Emotionally and physically drained.

I left the life I knew behind.

A chapter closed.

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That trip was so emotionally heavy, I started to associate the camper with something hard. Something I wasn’t ready to face again.

But eventually, the restlessness inside me grew louder. I wrote about it last week, that strange knot in my stomach I couldn’t quite name. And the nervousness pushed me past the fear of lonely camperlife.

So I went.

I'm so glad I did.

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I had a fantastic week away.

First, I visited my friend Tim, who built his little village in the middle of nature. He rents out these self-built tiny houses on Airbnb. There's a natural pool, and it's just a little paradise. Rosa was there, too, my dear, beautifully spirited friend from the Netherlands.

We grilled vegetables over the fire, drank red wine, gazed at the stars, laughed, and talked about deep stuff.

It felt like the kind of night we’ll remember years from now.

Perfect day

The next day, Rosa and I spontaneously decided to go together to the sea in the Netherlands.

We didn’t surf, but we fully enjoyed the slow days. Nothing to do, nowhere to be.

The day after that, I moved on alone and stayed at a peaceful camping spot in the Biesbosch nature park.

The nervous feeling started to fade, little by little, not completely, but enough. A lot of creative stories popped up, and I wrote almost daily.

For the weekend, I headed back home for dinner with the New Zealand Crew. On a whim, we decided to do a 17-km trail run on Sunday, something I can't imagine doing so easily a year ago.

I ended my week in Ghent, sharing wine and bites with my best friends.

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I had made zero plans and ended up having an amazing time.

The knot in my stomach? Still there, sometimes. But softer now. Less sharp.

I’m accepting the feeling and trusting it's here for a reason and will go away again. It's a process I have to go through.

What I do know for sure?

I can’t wait to be on the road again.

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With love,

Marie

xxx

P.S. If you’ve ever sent me a kind comment, message, or email and didn’t hear back, please know I read them all; they truly mean a lot. I want to reply thoughtfully, but finding the headspace to respond properly takes me energy I can’t seem the find at the moment. I’m learning to be okay with that, even if it means disappointing someone. Thanks for understanding. 🧡